“No. Take the call. I’ll see what we have for dinner.”
She all but pushed him into the living room on the pretext of giving him privacy for the call. She needed that distance, needed a few moments to gather herself and come to terms with the things Casey had just told her about himself.
Gripping the kitchen counter, she thought of how ironic it was that Casey’s personal revelatio
n had served only to drive them further apart rather than drawing them closer together.
She sent Casey away a short time later, claiming that she had several phone calls of her own to make. “I haven’t talked to either of my parents in a few days, and I need to call them both,” she said. “My chats with Mom usually last quite a while, and I’m sure you’d be bored.”
Looking as though he would have liked to argue with that, he merely shrugged and allowed himself to be hustled to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said from the open doorway. “Maybe we’ll have more opportunity to talk then.”
“Yes, maybe we will,” she replied lightly, though she wasn’t sure she’d be any more ready to talk about her mortifying situation the next day. “Good night, Casey.”
He caught her chin and brushed a kiss over her lips. “Good night, Natalie. Sleep well.”
Closing the door behind him, she placed a trembling hand on her mouth. Sleep well? She sincerely doubted that she would.
Chapter Ten
W hen someone knocked on the front door late the next morning, Natalie assumed it was Casey. Automatically smoothing her hair, she moved to open it, bracing herself for a difficult conversation. Sometime during her restless night, she had decided she might as well tell Casey the whole, embarrassing truth about herself.
She and Casey had become friends during the past days, if nothing more. He had been kind to her, providing more than the pleasant distraction she had first contemplated with him. He’d been thoughtful and entertaining, making her smile more than she had in a long time. And he had been honest with her, if a bit belatedly. She owed him the same in return.With that little pep talk in mind, she opened the door, then blinked in surprise when she found Rand Beecham there instead of Casey. The attractive-in-a-burly-ex-cop-sort-of-way P.I. gave her his studiedly charming smile and greeted her cheerfully. “Good morning, Ms. Lofton. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“How did you find me?” she asked, surprise making her a little stupid.
He merely laughed. Motioning with the manila envelope he held in one hand, he asked, “May I come in? I have the information you requested.”
“You’ve found out who was responsible for the leaks from the firm?” she asked eagerly.
“Well, no, not conclusively,” he replied, easing past her into the cabin. “I haven’t had a chance to do anything more since we talked yesterday. But you wanted to see an accounting of what I’ve done for you, correct?”
She frowned and closed the door. Seeing a stranger, Buddy abandoned his hearth rug and slunk into the laundry room where his food and water bowls sat. Apparently there was something about Beecham he didn’t like. Natalie completely understood. “You could have e-mailed the report. You’ve wasted a long drive here when you could have been working on my behalf.”
“And as I told you yesterday, I need another advance before I can go any further,” he argued smoothly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you to pay me at the end of the job,” he added, his tone a bit too pointed now, “but this is standard operating procedure, Ms. Lofton.”
She held out her hand. “Let me see your report.”
“Absolutely.”
Being an attorney, she knew all about billable hours. She knew how to record them, how to justify them, even how to manipulate them if necessary, though she had always tried to be scrupulous in recording her time. Still, Rand Beecham’s report was a study in creative billing. According to his time records and hourly charges, he had already earned everything she had given him as an advance and more. While she knew that effort did not always equal result, the very short, not particularly informative summary at the end of his report did not satisfy her at all that he’d been worth the investment.
“This tells me nothing I didn’t find out on my own through telephone gossip,” she said in dissatisfaction.
“Oh? Did you know that Cathy Linski has just put a down payment down on a nice West End condo?”
“A condo in West End?” Natalie repeated blankly. “You’re kidding.”
“So you didn’t know.”
Brushing off his smug tone, she shook her head. “No. And there’s no way she can afford a place like that. Not on her clerical salary at the firm.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I can’t imagine she’d have made that much with those few leaks that were attributed to me. I mean, sure, it was juicy gossip and the tabloids had a field day with it all—but would they really have paid her enough to finance an entire new lifestyle?”
“Perhaps. Especially if she’s agreed to provide more fodder once the higher-ups in the firm relax. If they’re satisfied that you were behind the leaks, they might consider the matter closed and let their guard down, giving Ms. Linski access to some of the confidential files again.”
There was still something that just didn’t feel right about that scenario, Natalie thought uncomfortably. “Is this the only lead you have? The fact that Cathy is buying a condo?”